CHAPTER THREE

"Settle down everyone."

Mr Douglas says as he arranges his files and notes on the teacher's table before him. Reece guides me to my seat and I settle down.

Her blazing eyes glare at my left seatmate, who looks like he is participating in a frowning competition. I will leave you with a hint that will help you guess who my left seatmate is: I called him an arrogant brat this morning.

"Are you sure you can manage through this class?" Reece whispers, concern in her voice.

"Yes I can. I am not going to miss class because of some. . . . .badboy."

I can feel Luke's eyes burning through the skin of my face, but I don't fucking care.

If he is angry that I called him a badboy, then he is a more excellent denial expert than the disciple Peter of the bible.

Reece nods at my response and moves to sit on her seat, which is two seats in front of mine. I put my phone on silent and focus my attention on Mr Douglas's back as his hand pens down the topic of today's class on the board: PAINTINGS OF HUMAN SHADES AND EMOTIONS: A MOODBOARD GATEWAY TO SELF DISCOVERY.

Sometimes, I wonder how Mr Douglas comes up with topics that are so 'off curriculum.'

"So today," he begins, "I will be talking about how paintings of human shades and emotions can help an artist on his or her gateway to self discovery."

Tiffany, the blonde girl sitting at my right, blows a full pink balloon from her bubble gum. Her forearms are folded under her full breasts, and her right leg is crossed over her left knee.

A loud yawn falls from Greg's lips, the lean guy seating beside Tiffany. Greg always gloats about his desire to be the next Steve Jobs, but I wonder how he is going to be the next Steve Jobs if he is, first of all:

Always sleeping in class and secondly:

He is in the art class, a class that has nothing to do with sciences or computer jargons.

Mr Douglas continues his teaching despite the distractions, and I jot down some vaild points he makes. He talks about how fine art has always served as a means of expression for mankind for many years, and how capturing human emotional details with the right paint strokes and colours on canvas can help an artist discover his artistic energy through the layers of human emotions.

The class goes on for another one hour or so, and even I start to feel tired.

I am relieved when I pen down the short summary he renders for every thing he has been teaching for the past hour.

"And now, that brings me to the end of my teaching for today. Any questions?"

The class falls silent. As the bookish girl who is only concerned with her academic life, I know you are expecting me to ask a bunch of Shakespearean questions, but I love to ask my questions to my teachers in private because of the following reasons:

First of all, my classmates always dread the day I ask questions in class. It is a telltale sign to them that the class will never end, because I always have tons and tons of questions to ask.

Secondly, I feel that when I ask my questions to my teachers in their office, they tend to answer me from a calm, more relaxed state than when they answer me in class.

So there, you have it.

"Well, since there are no questions, where is Alicia, your Class President?"

It takes a while before I raise my hand in response.

"Please come forward."

I gently rise up from my seat, feeling the pain in my left knee as it goes up a notch. I manage to hide my limp as I walk forward to Mr Douglas.

I reach the front of his desk and stand, facing the class.

"You all can recall that in my last class, I said that I will be giving a class project to you all based on the topic I will be teaching next, and that this project is to be done in groups of twos."

I look around the class, expertly avoiding to make eye contact with Luke.

"After receiving your class list from your class president," Mr Douglas continues, "I paired each and every one of you with a partner. In this project, using the topic of my class today and what you understood by my teaching today, you and your partner will have to come up with seven different paintings depicting the seven universal facial expressions in humans, and will also have to submit a documented summary of how you honestly felt while doing the project."

I shake my head. Mr Douglas will never cease to amaze us.

"Why are you shaking your head Miss Smith? Is there anything you want to say?"

"No. . . .no sir." I stutter out. "I am just impressed by the nature of the project."

I can feel the snarling looks of everyone's eyes on me now, but I had to say something nice to continue to be in Mr Douglas's good book, even if it means that my words will only fuel Mr Douglas's desire of giving us such a gruelling project.

"Miss Smith, take this." Mr Douglas says, handing me a printed A4 paper containing group numbers and the names of people paired together in groups of twos. "I want you to read out the group numbers and the names of people paired together for the project so that everyone will know who their partner is."

I nod and collect the paper from him. We are twenty four in my class, and since everyone is paired in groups of twos, it means that the groups are twelve in number.

I wonder who I will be paired with.

I clear my throat and begin to read out the group numbers and names.

"Group One - Tiffany Adams and Greg Lee."

Tiffany shrieks, snapping her head beside her to glare at Greg, who is nodding his sleepy head.

"Group Two - Miranda James and Sandra Grey."

The two headquarters of gossip in our class chuckle together, pleased that they are paired together.

I continue to call out group numbers and various names until I get to the column marked group nine.

I fall mute as the names of the two people who have been paired in group nine for the project glares back at me.